


Do what you want, when you want it

by dicie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Consensual genital transformation, F/M, Self-misgendering, Vaginal Fingering, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 05:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14709602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicie/pseuds/dicie
Summary: Oikawa shifts in his seat. He knew he shouldn't have done this now, but he couldn't make himself wait when he knew there was a good chance it wouldn't work. But Hajime is going to kill him, isn't he?





	Do what you want, when you want it

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags

Oikawa shifts in his seat. He knew he shouldn't have done this now, but he couldn't make himself wait when he knew there was a good chance it wouldn't work. But Hajime is going to kill him, isn't he?

The team has a practice match after school, and for once Oikawa couldn't care less about putting on a good show for them. There's a slickness to between his legs, and the bizarre feeling of a cavity spreading as new organs grow, and others shift.

The teacher frowns at him, and asks him the next question. Oikawa flashes a smile and answers well enough, even though there's a strained note to his voice.

His voice— he shivers down to his toes. The woman at the store had said _that_ changing was unlikely, but not impossible, particularly because he's young, and he realises that he _wants_ his voice to return to what it was before that awkward period where he squeaked and cracked. (And cried; he'd cried a lot about that.)

He smothers himself from laughing, coughing into his hand. It's funny how he's still thinking of himself as a boy, even though he really should admit that he isn't. He'd thought, he'd just try it out. He'd thought that if it didn't feel right (and, god, it feels right) there are plenty of options for changing the other way, for making him hairier and more muscular, reducing his fat percentage. He squeezes his thighs together, and grips his mechanical pencil so tightly his fingertips turn white.

He hadn't expected how strong the urge to have something inside him would be. His new equipment throbs and tingles behind his old genitals. His dick is blessedly limp and— _Why_ can't he make himself think of himself as a girl? If he wasn't, this would be torture, surely?

He tentatively reaches inside his desk for his phone, and sends a text to Hajime as quickly and subtly as he can manage. 

They'll go on a run. There's no way Oikawa will be able to eat anything, and that way they can be far away from anyone else when he yells about what Oikawa's done.

Hajime is scowling, when Oikawa arrives at the shoe lockers in his sports gear. 

"Iwa-chan came to my call!" he crows, and pulls Hajime against him in a hug which lasts a bare second before he's shoved off. 

"Always do, dumbass," Hajime says, but he at least sounds amused at Oikawa's enthusiasm rather than put off.

Oikawa hums, and spins on his heel as he tucks his school shoes and uniform into his locker. "Well of course, because Iwa-chan loves me."

"Yeah, yeah," Hajime replies, pressing his hand between Oikawa's shoulder blades and pushing. "Get moving or we won't be able to make it back with time to eat."

"Iwa-chan could eat enough for forty," Oikawa comments, and jogs down the path to the school's entrance. He can't believe how good he feels. He’s still slick between his legs. When he'd changed he'd peeked at what his underwear looked like, but there was only the tiniest amount of wetness there. Despite that, when he'd run his fingers along his new folds and dipped them inside himself, his knees went weak and his fingers came back coated. He'd wiped them off against the soft skin of his inner thigh, rather than washing them, because while he couldn't imagine anyone asking what was on his fingers, he didn't intend to give them the opportunity.

A water bottle hits the back of his head, and he fumbles as he tries to catch it on the rebound. It lands in the gravel and he pouts as he picks it up and flips open the top. "You could be more gentle, Iwa-chan. What if I got hurt?"

"I'd never let you get hurt, dumbass," Hajime says, jogging next to him. Oikawa's everything throbs in time to their footsteps. 

They slow as they reach the halfway mark, reaching a clearing that no one but runners ever see.

Oikawa wants to touch between his legs again. He's dying. He's miserable without contact. (But he'd hate to go back even more.) Hajime eyes him suspiciously, and Oikawa flashes him a smile. His smile will be so much cuter once his face rounds out, his lips are fuller, once he can kiss Hajime with them.

"I've done something," Oikawa says, and Hajime's suspicion grows.

"Okay?" he says, slowly, the crinkle between his eyebrows growing deeper.

It's not surprising, really, that he's confused. It's not like Oikawa ever let on that he's wanted this.

Oikawa nods. His heart hammers. His thighs clench. "I went to one of those shops."

Hajime's expression smooths, as it moves from suspicion to surprise. _Those shops_ are infamous. Where perverts go to fuck themselves up for a better ride, where sex workers go to invest in their business. Not much mention is made of people like Oikawa, who just want to feel comfortable, and have what they should have, because that's boring compared to a scandal when a politician is photographed with double Ds he didn't have the day before.

Oikawa doesn't know how to continue, so it's Hajime who breaks the silence. "Why?" he asks, incredulous.

Oikawa shrugs, and his voice cracks as he says, "Doesn't Iwa-chan want to experiment with a pussy?" What he means is _don't hate me_. What he means is _I'm a girl_.

The heat between Oikawa's legs is insistent.

"You got a—" Hajime breaks off with a shake of his head. "What's this about?" he snaps. "If someone told you I'm bi, I'll kill you both."

Oikawa blinks, and tries to process. "Iwa-chan is bi?" 

"That's why, isn't it? You thought that meant I'd be more into you if you have a cunt?" Hajime's voice is raised, and his cheeks are flushed. "Go get your dick back. It doesn't work like that."

"I still have my dick," Oikawa says, unable to think of something more productive to say. "Going back is easier if you keep it."

Hajime curses, and can't seem to look Oikawa in the eye. "Then _go back_."

"I don't want to," Oikawa says. Small. Meek. Pretending to be childishly stubborn. Hajime must hate it. "I don't want it."

Hajime looks at Oikawa then. He's scowling like Oikawa's vagina will fuse shut with the pure force of his glare. "What _is_ this, Assikawa?"

Oikawa nearly melts at the nickname. Hajime doesn't hate him. Not just yet. "The new and improved me!"

"And you're a girl?"

A lump forms in Oikawa's throat. "Iwa-chan is awfully shallow if he cares."

"I care about _you_ , dumbass."

Oikawa's heart throbs. Oikawa's vagina clenches. Oikawa's knees wobble.

"Then maybe I am a girl."

Hajime's face does something that Oikawa has only seen a few times before. It's like he's fighting with himself. Oikawa expects him to come out from it yelling, but he softens, and pulls Oikawa into a hug. Really, he's a sentimental asshole.

*

Hajime squeezes his best friend in a hug sight enough to break her. "You idiot," he says. She's still taller than him. Still beautiful. Still infuriating.

"I thought you'd be mad," she says, which does make Hajime's anger flare up. 

"You're such a fucking idiot."

She nuzzles against his neck, and slides her hand down to his ass, which she squeezes. She wants to fuck. Of course she does. Dancing around each other for — shit, it must be close to a year, now, once they both noticed in the corners of their eyes that perhaps Oikawa wasn't _actually_ all that interested in her constant string of girlfriends — and she picks the day she gets herself a vagina to go for it. Though, he supposes that's understandable. He didn't know she was a girl, before. And maybe she'll be happier.

"Love you, Iwa-chan," she says against his skin, and he half snorts, half sighs.

"Back at you, asshole."

She squeezes his ass again, and pulls his hips closer to her own. "'m horny."

He'd figured. "What do you want me to do about it?" He's snapping, but he thinks she knows him well enough to get that it's an actual question. That he actually wants to know.

"Fuck me," she whispers, and he realises she sounds scared. She's such a damned coward.

He forces her to bring her head up from his shoulder—he frowns, she's crying, all snot and red blotches— and kisses her. 

This kiss isn't the first kiss they've had. No, that treat was another occasion where Oikawa was crying, though those were crocodile tears brought on from the latest girlfriend breaking off the relationship. Hajime had refused to be Oikawa's rebound, and she came away from it like she'd never kissed him in the first place. This kiss is nicer, if even wetter. He holds her by the back of her neck, his eyes closed so he can focus on what his lips are doing, trying to keep them soft and responsive. She makes a quiet sound against his mouth, and he remembers how in love with her he is.

They kiss for what is probably barely a minute but feels like longer, until he breaks away, and wipes the stickiness he's picked up from Oikawa off on the back of his hand. He catches her expression and forces himself to grin. "You're such an ugly crier," he says, and he means: _you can cry on me any time_. The hurt fades from her eyes, and she huffs, puffing out her blotchy cheeks.

"Iwa-chan should feel privileged to get to see me like this," she says, composed as ever, apart from the tears and snot and already fading redness.

He shakes his head. She's definitely the worst. He laces his fingers with hers. "Come on, let's take you home."

Oikawa gasps, "Iwa-chan is forcing me to skip school! You're a dreadful influence." The last part she says with such fondness his heart squeezes. She'd thought he would be mad. He can't say he's not, but really it's that he's always mad at _everything_. She's just good at giving him focus.

"You're calling in sick," he snaps, but she just tugs him along towards her house.

 

Once they get there, he glares at her until she makes the call to the office, somehow convincing the receptionist that Hajime is also needed to take care of her for the afternoon at the same time. He trails after her as she goes to the bathroom and washes her face. She dries it, and peeks at Hajime from behind the towel.

He sighs, and pulls the towel away, putting it to the side and lacing their fingers together. She practically bounces as he leads them towards her room.

"I love you, Iwa-chan," she says.

"Yeah, yeah," he replies, and slides her door shut.

Her room is in one of its Spartan phases, nothing out of place and her bed made. Hajime hesitates. He doesn't know how to start this, and he can bet Oikawa doesn't either, though she'll try her best to cover it. She sits on the edge of her bed and pulls off her shirt. Her nipples are large and puffy— bigger than they were before, he thinks, though he can't say he paid much attention to them. She'll probably get breasts, as well. His dick twitches, and he flushes from staring and thinking about her like that.

She undoes the tie on her shorts, wiggles out of them, and then her underwear. Her dick looks normal, balls the same as ever as far as Hajime is aware, but she doesn't bother with them. She pushes them aside and presses her fingers into a new opening situated behind her old genitals, letting out a soft sigh and smiling gently as she does.

With her legs spread and her fingers inside herself, Hajime can see her muscles clench and spasm around her fingers. His dick gets harder just from the sight.

He removes his own shirt, and shorts, but leaves his underwear on for the moment, though the way his dick presses against the cloth is distracting.

It strikes him, not for the first time, how _happy_ she looks. He can't remember the last time he saw her like this, _actually_ happy and not some approximation for whoever is watching.

He leans over her so she's spread out under him, his knee up on the bed, and tests his tongue on his bottom lip. She seems entirely unconcerned with him, contenting herself with rocking her hips into her hand as her fingers slide in and out. Vagina aside, this is about how he thought sex with Oikawa would go. He kisses her cheek, and pulls her hand out of herself, replacing it with his own fingers.

"You've got to tell me what feels good," he mumbles, giving her another kiss, this time where her jaw curves into her neck. Her Adam's apple is gone, and he can picture her delighting in wearing necklaces to draw the gaze of anyone who looks at her.

She laughs and wiggles down onto his fingers. "Anything Iwa-chan does feels good!" she replies, cheerful. The worst part is that he believes it.

He pinches her, sharply, squeezing the flesh to one side of her pussy together so he can feel the different layers slide between his thumb and forefinger. She yelps, but twitches _into_ his touch, rather than away.

He smiles, perhaps a touch nastily, as he sees her trying to decide whether she liked that or not. 

"Iwa-chan," she says, carefully, "is not much of a gentleman."

He snorts, and slides his fingers into her as far as they will go, and then draws them out, slowly, curling them so he presses up against the soft muscle inside her. "Didn't say I was," he tells her. "That feel good?"

She huffs, like he's being demanding, like he should know his way around already. She's slick and warm around his fingers, and his own junk is hot and insistent but he ignores it, apart from shifting so he's lying on her side. She might be able to feel how hard he is when his hips twitch slightly against her. 

He keeps fucking her with his fingers, and she squirms on them. There's no way to tell how much is for show and how much is her actually enjoying what he's doing, but he picks up the pace, and tries to match what makes her react the most through his hand cramping up.

"Iwa-chan…" she whines, and he grunts, to tell her to find some proper words or shut up and be fucked. "Use your _dick_ , Iwa-chan."

He nearly stumbles in his pace, working in and out of her. His shoulder is starting to ache now. Probably fucking her with his dick would be easier, and he can't say he minds the idea, but he grunts again, shakes his head. Kisses her cheek, because she's beautiful. "Different time," he says, and she whines, a pathetic little sound which goes straight to his gut. 

His dick might be hot and hard against his clothes, but he's pretty damned sure he wouldn't last a second inside her, and he'd rather her first time be all about her. Though, maybe it isn’t. "Hey," he says, "this your first time?"

She shakes her head, but she's shaking off the question, rather than answering. "It's my first time with Iwa-chan," she says, clenching down on his fingers, and gripping at the sheets.

Her answer is probably a "no" but he doesn't mind. That's her business, and she had to be doing _something_ to keep those girlfriends interested. He wonders whether she ever went down on them, and studied what they were like, because she wanted one of her own. He hopes she can keep being happy.

They reach a point where his hand is seizing up, coated completely from working inside her, and her muscles are rolling down against his fingers like they want to fuck them back. She shudders, and he thinks it's her coming. He works her through it as best he can, and kisses her cheek and mouth once he remembers that she might actually like that.

She finishes, one last clench around his fingers. He grumbles something into her neck which is "I love you," but she can pretend is something else if she wants.

"Stay with me," she whispers, as he ever so gently slides his fingers out of her.

"Duh," he says, and lifts her chin.

She props herself up. And again he's amazed that she looks happy. 

"You know, Iwa-chan," she begins, and he scowls reflexively, "you can get me pregnant now."

He reaches above her head, and brings her own pillow down on her stupid face, which he loves so much.


End file.
